


Reunions

by vienn_peridot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Mending Bridges, Other, Reconciliation, Reunions, it's kinda weird, they can be read as BFFs or lovers it's up to you, they're being all mature and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: Ratchet brings a wayward swordsmech home.But Drift isn't the mech he was when he left -either the Lost Light OR the Decepticons.When faced with the current command structure of the Lost Light he takes matters into his own hands





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2016 Secret Solenoid gift exchange on Tumblr.  
> The prompt I chose to go with was 'MTMTE. Drift, Megatron.'  
> Happy holidays everyone!

A small, long-departed shuttle was making the final approach for docking, everything handed over to autopilot while the reception party waited and Rodimus fidgeted halfway out of his armour. The closer they got to the final moment the more nervous everyone became and the more Rodimus fidgeted. His Field was flaring wildly, jagged with anxiety that steadily eroded Megatron’s calm facade. He exchanged a glace with Ultra Magnus over the shortest mech’s helm, silently asking if it would be advisable to knock his co-Captain out before he injured himself.

Definite amusement danced in cool blue optics as Magnus gave the tiniest shake of his head.

Sighing, Megatron pulled his Field in as tightly as he dared and focused his optics resolutely ahead, watching the timer over the airlock count steadily down to full pressure and the return of their prodigal medic and the wayward warrior he’d gone to retrieve.

Scant minutes until he was to be reunited with someone he’d never thought he’d meet again. So much time had passed and so many things had happened that Megatron wasn’t even sure he’d recognise the Spark he’d once known so well.

_I have changed as well. Possibly more than I realise…_

A harsh buzzing and a blinking ‘OK’ light over the airlock announced the return of their two absent crewmembers.

As the door slid open Rodimus froze. The speedster’s prickly Field vanished as he adopted some exaggerated pose that was obviously supposed to be confident and welcoming, a huge and definitely nervous grin plastered across his face.

 _If you look at him from a distance it probably looks fine_.

Ratchet appeared first, striding smoothly forward to stop just inside the portal and smirking as he took in the reactions to his obviously rebuilt frame.

“Well I see Aid’s done a good job of keeping you lot in one piece despite yourselves.” He said, breaking expertly into the stunned silence before Rodimus could gather himself and deliver whatever welcoming speech he’d organised. “Now you lot play nice or you’ll be seeing nothing but the Medbay ceiling until he puts you back together.”

The chill in his voice combined with the unsubtle threat gave Meagtron pause.

_Of all the monsters the war created I never anticipated this one._

With his warning delivered Ratchet stepped aside and allowed Drift to move past him.

### ~V~V~V~

The atmosphere in the shuttle bay was so thick with tension it could be cut with a knife.

In fact, Drift figured it would probably take something on the level of the Greatsword mounted in new clasps at his lower back to even make a dent in it.

When Ratchet gave the signal he strolled forwards, smooth and confident despite the nervousness clawing at his spark. Despite the repeated assurances he still wasn’t exactly certain of his reception.

Nobody threw anything, nobody hurled insults, bombs or so much as took a potshot at him.

_Heh, maybe this new armour is too shiny for them to get a bead on?_

Since Ratchet had already brought him up-to-date with current events on the Lost Light, Drift wasn’t at all surprised to see Rodimus being dwarfed by both Megatron and Ultra Magnus. It was an amusing sight, one that warmed his spark as he stopped within polite hailing distance.

“So hey, um, welcome back.” Rodimus spoke first. “Good to see you still in one piece.”

Drift gave him a little bow to hide the smile he couldn’t keep from his faceplates.

 _He never_ could _handle a nervous silence._

“I could say the same, given the stories I’ve heard.” Drift held out his hand, inviting Rodimus to clasp his wrist. “It’s good to see you again.”

The wrist-clasp was awkward and he could feel the energon beating fast and hot through the lines of Rodimus’ wrist, sure the other speedster could feel the tension in his own frame as they let go.

“Yeah, same here.” Rodimus’ optics flicked towards the grey warframe looming beside him, resetting his vocaliser loudly.

Drift could see exactly where this was going and decided to spare all of them the embarrassment. He was done playing these silly Autobot social games.

_Decepticon ones too, for that matter._

“Ultra Magnus; Megatron.” Drift acknowledged both of the larger mechs using exactly the same inflections for each, giving both of them a brief nod of his head.

Ultra Magnus cycled his optics, looking a bit stunned. From the tension in Megatron’s armour he was suppressing a smile.

“Drift.” Megatron used the same inflections, gave Drift the same nod.

There was smothered hope in his expression that matched the emotion spreading tentative wings in Drift’s own spark.

### ~V~V~V~

In a move typical of the mech Megatron had once known, Drift cut right to the chase.

The only other people who weren’t surprised by the datapad invitation were Ratchet and Perceptor. He expected the first but the second surprised him; he still wasn’t entirely sure about the connection there. Since joining this sorry excuse for a crew Megatron had tried not to take too obvious an interest in his ex-soldier.

The fact that Deadlock was still on the DJD’s wanted list created animosity he could understand. Seeing Drift’s corpse on the alternate Lost Light had upset him deeply, although he’d waited until after the crisis to deal with his emotions. Then Perceptor had told him (loudly and at length) exactly what the ‘Overlord Incident’ entailed and why Drift had left this ship in the first place.

Then Megatron understood.

So he wasn’t exactly optimistic about his reception when he arrived at Drift’s quarters at the specified time, pressing the buzzer and trying to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen.

The last thing he expected was for Drift to politely invite him inside, tell him to sit on a surprisingly comfortable chair, and offer him _snacks_.

“One of my _parole conditions_ ,” here Megatron actually found himself making air quotes around the phrase. “Is that I can only refuel with-”

“The kind of garbage I won’t allow in my quarters.” Drift cut him off with familiar abruptness, shoving a datapad at Megatron as he dropped into a chair opposite. “These are medically prescribed supplements; prescribed by your primary care physician and approved by both Rodimus and Magnus. It’s all properly sanctioned and signed off and all.” Drift grinned lazily, grabbed something that looked anything but medicinal from a bowl on the table and popped in his mouth .

Biting his glossa, Megatron hastily looked down at the datapad to distract himself from the sight of Drift shamelessly enjoying his fuel.  The sound of crunching seemed overly loud in the room as Megatron scanned the datapad. Absolutely everything was in order, as he’d come to expect from documents crafted by Ultra Magnus.

Except for one term.

“’Soul food?’” He asked, raising a dubious supra-orbital ridge.

“Human term. Rodimus thought it applied and Ratchet agreed.” Drift smirked. “You gonna eat or what?”

Megatron set the datapad down on the table with a click, pointedly ignoring the snacks despite the hurt and anger that flickered over Drift’s faceplates.

 “Why are you doing all this?” He asked, poking a finger at the fuel and then waving his hand to indicate the room. “Why pretend nothing has changed?”

_Since you left, way back then._

Drift gave him a long, hard look, obviously thinking carefully about his response.

Megatron had been waiting millions of years for answers to the questions burning the tip of his glossa, he could wait a little longer. Letting Drift think, he turned his own attention to the snacks on the table.

_I… don’t recognise any of that. Did he actually find time to get lessons?_

“Ratchet told me their side of the story.” Drift chose the most obvious interpretation of his words to start with. “I want to hear yours.”

Of all the possible responses, that was one Megatron hadn’t expected. His shock must have shown because Drift grinned at him; Deadlock’s old expression of almost savage glee tempered now with something new.

“So how the slag _did_ you end up here?” Drift was definitely feeling smug, the strange enunciation he’d picked up since defection falling away as he continued. “Tell me that first. And for Pits’ sake, eat some of this, would you?”

Feeling decidedly back-footed, Megatron gathered himself and did as Drift asked.

_It’s the least I can do for him, with Tarn still out there._

### ~V~V~V~

It was a familiar old custom of theirs; swapping stories over fuel in the quiet hours of the night.

Drift settled in to listen, soaking in the familiar rumble of Megatron’s voice and savouring every moment of stolen peace before the difficult conversation he knew was coming.

Because Megatron would want his side of events, too.

Why he’d left. Why, when push came to shove, he’d decided to turn his back on his fellows and choose another path. Discarded the name Megatron had given him, the reputation he’d built with it and tried to make a new one for himself under the name he’d run from for so long.

 _Can’t run anymore, just gonna have to face it_.

When the question inevitably came as a rephrasing of Drift’s own question, he was as ready as he could be. Nudging a plate of something mild and savoury towards Megatron, Drift started at the beginning.

He wasn’t a poet, no master orator to deliver inspirational speeches (although he _could_ write them now). So he served his truths up bald and unadorned, watching as understanding spread across Megatron’s faceplates.

Nothing was the same anymore but the old familiarity was comforting, easing his words when he stumbled and by the time Drift was done he no longer feared judgement.

When he finally ran out of words Megatron was looking at him thoughtfully. It was a familiar expression, one that reassured Drift even as he tensed with anticipation of a potentially explosive reaction.

That didn’t come.

### ~V~V~V~

Megatron’s processor ached, the weight of his helm almost unbearable.

It was simply too much to take in and process successfully in one evening.

An old memory fragment surfaced and replayed unbidden.

_Early in the revolution, someone joking that Primus had probably blessed Deadlock with an eventful life. The speedster laughing, new red optic lenses sparkling as he that blessings of this sort were more likely to come from Unicron._

“I have questions but they can wait for another night.” Megatron said, pushing a bowl of something sweet at Drift before rubbing along the edge of his helm. He glanced at Drift, suddenly nervous. “That is, if you wish…”

_I haven’t felt like this since…_

“I do wish.” Drift blurted, looking almost comically confused by the way the polite phrase sounded in his old Rodion drawl. “I mean, I’d like to. Even with everything else that happened, no matter what, I just missed… this.”

That helpless shrug warmed Megatron’s spark in a way he hadn’t felt for far too long.

In that moment of tenuous hope there was only one response that came to his mind.

“As did I.”


End file.
